


The Difference Between Fucking and Making Love

by KorrinBelle



Series: Domesticia [11]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Making Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4967257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KorrinBelle/pseuds/KorrinBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They don't usually use words to say what they want, but sometimes Ryuuji gets in to a special mood and he finds them necessary... and yet they never seem to do the situation justice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Difference Between Fucking and Making Love

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, this one seems really short~  
> Thanks as always for reading! :3

            Usually it would just happen, no planning or words shared between them.

            Ryuuji would kiss Rin good morning and the half demon would pull him back down and turn the kiss to something deeper, hungrier and needier, and they’d spent the early hours of the morning in bed together, loathe to be the first to let the other go, but unable to ignore the call of adult life and responsibilities.

            Sometimes Rin would pinch Ryuuji’s ass in passing and Ryuuji would always jump, startled and annoyed that he never seemed to see it coming and he’d shoot Rin a glare as the other boy snickered. But sometimes the glare would soften and Ryuuji would chase him down to get revenge and it would turn in to a sweaty, passionate wrestling match where both men battled for dominance. It was a battle Rin would usually lose on purpose, partly because his strength always left him on edge about hurting others, but mostly because he enjoyed bottoming more than Ryuuji did. Though he knew all of Ryuuji’s weak spots when he felt like turning things around, he tried not to take advantage of that too often.

            But sometimes, much less often, Ryuuji would be in a particular mood, and he’d find Rin when he was busy doing something so his attention was distracted and Ryuuji would wrap his arms around his waist, letting his chin rest on Rin’s shoulder.

            “So… You wanna’ fuck me?”

            He’d keep his voice calm and cool, trying to pretend as if it weren’t a big deal or that he wasn’t all that interested. Rin would turn and Ryuuji would pretend to ignore the way Rin’s eyes would dance or the way that wide grin of his would light up his face as he nodded quickly and eagerly.

            He used that phrase simply because he didn’t know how else to say it, to declare that he was in the mood to bottom; simply saying that—“in the mood to bottom”—felt too clinical and detached, and he wasn’t near enough of a dork to say something like “do sex to me”—Rin was, of course, enough of a dork to say something like _that_ —while “have sex with me” wasn’t specific enough for what Ryuuji wanted.

            “Make love to me.”

            That was not a phrase that ever passed either of their lips, at least not seriously, and so Ryuuji would use the phrase “fuck me”, but that’s never what happened.

            Rin would take his hand and lead Ryuuji to the bedroom where he’d slowly ease him down and undress him, like unwrapping a delicate present, peeling back one layer at a time, not just ripping all the paper off in one go. He’d touch every inch of Ryuuji’s body, as if he were worshipping him, gently, as if afraid of letting his strength get out of control, afraid of hurting him, and Ryuuji would just lie back and enjoy it; just let it happen.

            They both felt it—not as strong now as when they were younger and full of fluctuating teenage hormones—the unquenchable urge to have sex, to mate, to procreate, and though orgasm usually brought the same release of pleasurable endorphins either way there was something different, something special about feeling full of Rin; feeling loved and cared for. Because sometimes, when you normally did your utmost to retain an iron grip on control, it was nice to just let go like that, to let yourself be pampered once in a while instead of being the one worrying about hurting the other and making sure they felt good.

            It wasn’t the only time they made love—did things slow and soft and sweet—but it was one of the only times they used words to communicate what they wanted, and even though Ryuuji used the word “fuck”, without fail they would always make love instead.


End file.
